


(Have You Been) Naughty or Nice

by dizzzylu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 21:56:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzzylu/pseuds/dizzzylu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas and Dean exchange their own gifts in the wee early hours of Christmas Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Have You Been) Naughty or Nice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frecklesarechocolate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklesarechocolate/gifts).



> When I got the prompt set, my original idea was for kidfic, since I had just written one for another fandom and felt all ooey-gooey-squishy inside. Instead, I porned. Oops? Hope you had a great holiday season, frecklesarechocolate, and that you enjoy this! ♥

Cas flops onto the bed and lets out a rough sigh, eyes closed, arms flung wide, leaving no room for Dean to follow. Dean looms close, almost leaning over Cas, with his hands on his hips, and only gets a sour, wide-mouthed yawn in return for his scorn. He nudges Cas in the knee instead, but even that only garners him a sliver of mattress, which he drops onto without ceremony, pinning Cas' hand in the process.

"Who knew putting together a kitchen playset would be so difficult?" Cas muses at the ceiling, quiet.

Dean scowls at Cas' profile. " _I_ knew. I told you that after I helped Sam put Mary's together."

"Yeah, but, you were drunk. I figured it would be easier sober."

"It so fucking wasn't," Dean grumbles, rubbing at his eyes.

"Probably because you were too drunk to care if you got Mary's wrong."

"Yeah," Dean snickers, thinking back on it. "Probably."

They fall quiet, then, the clock just past Cas' head glowing a soft red 3:12 AM. Jake will be up soon, jumping on Castiel's spleen before the sun is even up, Katie not far behind him, but it's nice here, now that the kitchen set is done. Now that the holidays themselves are almost over, the work parties and the school parties, the PTA party, and Christmas Eve with Sam and Jess and their kids. Dean feels calm for the first time, watching Cas' chest rise and fall, the Christmas lights from the neighbor's house turning his face red-blue-green-gold by turns. Dean can't see it now, from where he is on the bed, but he's pretty sure the snow is still falling outside, fat white flakes drifting down, like a Norman Rockwell painting come to life. It's the perfect picturesque Christmas, everything Dean's always wanted his kids to have. It makes him smile to think about how excited they'll be in the morning, with the, frankly, obscene pile of presents under the tree plus the drifts of snow to play in after. Dean couldn't ask for more. Except...

Except while Dean's been thinking about Jake and Katie's faces, Cas has been looking at him, his blue eyes dark and endless in the shadows. Dean swallows around the sudden, familiar throb of want in his gut.

"We should get to bed," he says, his voice weak and crackly. His fingers twitch where they rest on his belly; Cas doesn't miss the movement. "Kids'll be up soon."

Cas rolls onto his side and reaches out for Dean's neck. His hand is firm and reassuring, resting against Dean's skin. He uses the grip to steady himself and wriggles closer, close enough for the tips of their noses to touch. "We could do that," Cas says, his breath warm over Dean's lips. "But in the grand scheme of things, what's another ten minutes?"

"Ten minutes?!" Dean whisper-squawks, jerking his head back. "Fuck you, Cas, it'd take longer than ten min- mmph!"

Cas cuts him off with a kiss that Dean struggles to resist. He has his pride to defend, for one thing, and they really do need to get to bed. But Cas has been crashing through all of Dean's blustering for years now, knows just the way to head Dean off at the pass, how to tease with little flicks of his tongue until Dean is groaning and opening up for Cas, tilting his head for a better angle, pulling Cas close to get a leg between Cas' thighs.

"You are a _cheater_ ," Dean pants once Cas pulls back for a breath

"Like you didn't already know that," Cas rumbles into the skin of Dean's neck, humming as he mouths along the tendon, teeth dragging over the pulse, light enough to raise goosebumps across Dean's skin. His hand skims along Dean's side until it finds the hem of Dean's t-shirt and pushes it up, only far enough for Cas' fingers to scrape through Dean's happy trail and disappear into his pajama pants.

Dean chuckles, low and dirty, and licks his lips, eyes darting between Cas' wrist and the intense concentration in his dark eyes. His fingers are warm, circling around Dean's dick in a loose grip, thumb rubbing the frenulum. Dean's not quite hard yet, but getting there with Cas' careful, deliberate strokes, from base to tip. Exhausted and willing to let Cas do pretty much whatever he wants, Dean settles further into the mattress and pillows his head in his hands, eyes closed on a smile.

An annoyed grunt from Cas draws Dean's attention, barely, just in time for him to watch Cas work Dean's pajama pants over his hips to bunch at his knees. It feels more obscene than it should be, with his shirt pushed up around his soft belly, pants only far enough down to expose his flushed red dick. It's hot, though, that Cas knows and zeros in on exactly what he wants, enough that he's slinging a leg over Dean's restless thighs to pin them down. Cas' hand flat on Dean's stomach furthers the cause, enough that Dean can't move much at all, not that he really wants to.

Cas resumes jacking Dean off with slow, deliberate strokes, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. He focuses all of his attention on Dean's dick, his eyes dark and knowing as moves his hand in an erratic pattern designed to turn Dean on and piss him off by turns. After a few minutes of nothing more than a sweet tease, Dean's already squirming, hands fisted in the sheets above his head to keep from reaching down and showing Cas exactly what to do. But it's not like Cas is a blushing virgin. He knows _precisely_ what Dean likes, and if he's not doing that, there's a reason why.

And the why is probably because he's intent on taking Dean apart piece by piece. Not necessarily a wise choice with Christmas morning approaching in t-minus four hours, but Dean's too busy trying to fuck up into Cas' hand to think about it. Cas' hand on Dean's belly is firm, though, holding him in place with little effort. Dean tries to tell himself that's not hot and fails.

Pretty soon, Dean's a sweaty, begging mess, hands clinging to the headboard. He can't keep his feet still, either, the both of them sliding up and down, knees nudging into Cas' back. Cas doesn't seem to notice any of it, including the impressive tent in his own pajamas. He's too busy stoking the fire in Dean's gut, little by little, until Dean feels like it's too much and not enough at the same time.

It's Cas saying Dean's name that pushes him over the edge, the sandpaper scrape of it, deep in Cas' throat, rough with want. Dean has to bite his lip to keep from shouting to loud and waking the kids, but it's so, so good; the twinkling lights and Cas looking down on him, the total, blissed out exhaustion he feels after. Most of his come splatters over his hip and Cas' knuckles, a little bit smearing near his belly button. Cas rubs that spot in, but uses a wad of tissues to clean up the rest. He looks supremely satisfied, gazing down at Dean with his sticky-out hair and smug smile. Dean feels warm all over from the force of it, but then his eyes are drawn down and he waves a hand at Cas' dick. "Want some help with that?"

"Nope," Cas says as he eases the waistband over the head of his cock, the tip shiny with precome. For all that Cas was slow and torturous with Dean, he's the complete opposite for himself, using Dean's come and a little bit of spit to slick the way. With his weight braced on one hand near Dean's hip, Cas leans over Dean, takes in the soft, wrecked expanse of him and grunts his way into a messy orgasm of his own, coming over Dean's belly and shirt.

Dean thinks he probably shouldn't be turned on by Cas' deliberate efficiency, but, well. At least he's too close to forty now to react to it the way he once did. Still, it leaves him dazed enough that he doesn't figure out why Cas is manhandling Dean out of his shirt until Cas uses it to wipe down his hands and Dean's stomach.

"Not cool," Dean mutters at Cas' retreating back. It's kind of cool in the room, now that they aren't moving or close, and Dean's attention is drawn back to his bare mid-section, the gentle swell of his stomach and his soft dick. It's a level of ridiculous he hasn't felt in awhile. Well, until he's trying to pull his pants back up without leaving the bed. Exhaustion and a well-executed orgasm makes him clumsy and Cas returns just in time to give Dean a supremely unimpressed look.

"You could sleep naked," he suggests, easing himself under the covers.

Dean snorts as he grunts and squirms further into the bed. "I would like as many layers as possible between my dick and Jack's bony knees, thank you very much." He does get settled, eventually, though he's panting by the end of it, warm and a little sweaty at his temples, the nape of his neck.

"A thin pair of flannel pants isn't going to save you," Cas says around a drawn-out yawn.

"You could leave me to my illusions." Dean gives his pillow a few grumpy punches to draw attention away from how he's trying to snug up close to Cas and pretend he's annoyed at the same time.

Cas, who doesn't miss a beat, slides his arm around Dean's waist and presses a soft kiss to Dean's nape. "Whatever you say."


End file.
